Today marks the the end of my “probation period” at my latest job. Three months of not really screwing up in a noticable way.
For reasons I won’t go into now, I can’t say who I work for, but it’s not MI5 or MIB or the CIA or Al Qaeda or even the local bus company. On your way people, there’s nothing to see … at least as far as that’s concerned.
Also today, I spent around 10 hours knocking the company website into shape. To be honest, it’s not the design I favoured — all a bit dark and claustraphobic for my taste — but I hope I have been able to steer them away from the worst excesses of goth/emo stylings.
Yet despite all this positive shit, I still feel mildly apprehensive. This is because over the last two and a half years I have had as much luck with employment as I would with passing myself off as Angelina Jolie on a Bad Hair Day (even from the side).
Mind you, I only have one tattoo. It’s small, and strategically placed somewhere the sun don’t shine. (You have a filfthy mind)! Not so with Ange. There’s even a site listing them all … and their meanings (See: http://tattooswin.com/angelina-jolie/)
Frankly, as it stands, you could throw me a party with marching bands, four-star catering, a free bar and a personal appearance from Bono, and I’d still be wondering when the security guards were going to escort me from the building carrying a cardboard box full of scooped-up desk clutter that I will never, ever unpack. Even the fact that I got to work from home today actually left me feeling nervous that it was all part of some warped plan to get me out of the office so that the three-month thing didn’t count.
You could sum it up as “It’s all going very well; now watch some bastard spoil it”.
Actually, touch wood, the only bastard spoling it is me, and I should really follow my own advice from just the other day: SUMO – “Shut Up, Move On!”
In the real world, I’m doing rather well: targets are being met, tasks are going smoothly, even the much-slighted weather seems to be being helpful when it comes to getting to and from the office: the worst I have to contend with with is hairdryer weather; that’s cycling into a warm headwind, for the uninitiated. Will it continue? I do hope so. (That’s the good times, not the hairdryer weather, you understand.)
In the grand sceme of things, I’m actually an optimist (for instance, I’m optimistic that you are reading this and it has made you smile), it’s just that experience has heightened my cynicism.
Despite all this, I know that — in general — life gets better as I get older.
And tomorrow, when I walk into the office and find my desk is still there with all the clutter that I pretend is mine, I will feel a little more secure, safe in the knowledge that today was one more day when I was good enough.